Chapter 6 - What Ethan Told Giovanni
Giovanni did not sit.
Neither did Aleandro.
The two men stood on opposite sides of the cabin's dining room while Claire and Luca watched.
Sophie was asleep upstairs.
Max lay at the bottom of the staircase, head raised.
Aleandro's voice was quiet.
"You spoke to Ethan Bennett."
"Yes."
"The night before he died."
"Yes."
"You never told me."
"No."
Luca swore under his breath.
Claire's hands tightened.
"What did my husband say?"
Giovanni looked at her.
"He said someone was moving containers through Pier Thirty-Eight after hours."
"We know that."
"He said the paperwork had Moretti approvals."
Aleandro's eyes sharpened.
"Mine?"
"Some."
"And you didn't tell me?"
"I was going to."
"When?"
Giovanni's jaw tightened.
"Morning."
"Ethan died before morning."
"I know."
Claire stood.
"Why did he call you?"
Giovanni looked almost ashamed.
"Because we'd met."
"Where?"
"Pier Thirty-Eight. Twice."
Claire stared.
"Ethan never mentioned you."
"He didn't know who I worked for at first."
"What did you tell him?"
"That I handled security."
"Which was true," Luca said.
Giovanni nodded.
"Ethan saw me checking cameras after cargo went missing. He thought I was investigating the same thing."
"Were you?" Aleandro asked.
"Yes."
That surprised everyone.
"Why wasn't I told?"
Giovanni looked directly at him.
"Matteo told me you authorized the investigation privately."
Aleandro's face changed.
"What?"
"He said someone was stealing from you, but you didn't want anyone else informed until we knew who."
"You believed him?"
"He had your authentication."
The room went silent.
Giovanni continued.
"He showed me documents carrying your authorization."
Claire looked at Aleandro.
The same system.
The same stolen credentials.
Matteo hadn't only forged transfers.
He had used Aleandro's authority to control the people around him.
"What happened on the phone?" Claire asked.
Giovanni rubbed his jaw.
"Ethan told me he had proof that several safety documents were falsified. He was angry. Said he'd requested a meeting with Aleandro and got no response."
Claire's eyes filled.
"He thought Aleandro was ignoring him?"
"Yes."
"What did you say?"
"I told him I would arrange a meeting myself."
Aleandro looked away.
"Did you?"
"I called Matteo."
Luca muttered, "Jesus."
Giovanni's face twisted.
"I didn't know."
"What did Matteo say?"
"That Ethan was unstable. That he'd been making accusations because Northline refused him a promotion."
Claire laughed bitterly.
"Ethan hated management."
"I know that now."
"Then?"
"He told me to stay out of it. Said you'd handle Ethan personally."
Aleandro's voice became colder.
"Personally."
"Those were his words."
"And you accepted that?"
Giovanni met his eyes.
"I worked for you. Matteo spoke for you on legal matters. I believed him."
Claire walked to the window.
She couldn't decide whether to scream or cry.
Ethan had been one phone call away from the truth reaching Aleandro.
Instead, every road had led back to Matteo.
"What happened the next day?" she asked.
"I called Ethan twice. No answer. That night we heard about the accident."
"And you still didn't tell Aleandro?"
Giovanni's expression broke.
"Matteo told me the police had confirmed equipment failure. He said bringing up Ethan's claims would drag Moretti Maritime into an unnecessary investigation."
Claire turned.
"So you protected the company."
Giovanni looked at the floor.
"Yes."
"You protected a company while I buried my husband."
Nobody moved.
Giovanni's voice was barely audible.
"I'm sorry."
Claire approached him.
For a moment Aleandro thought she might hit him.
Instead she said, "Sorry is something you say after spilling someone's coffee."
Giovanni accepted it.
"My daughter spent eighteen months asking why her father didn't come home."
His eyes lowered.
"I know."
"No. You don't."
Claire walked upstairs.
The bedroom door closed.
Silence followed.
Luca looked at Giovanni.
"You should've told us."
"I know."
"You should've told him."
"I know."
Aleandro's eyes remained on the staircase.
"Go outside."
Giovanni nodded.
"Aleandro—"
"Outside."
After he left, Luca exhaled.
"You believe him?"
"Yes."
"That's almost worse."
"It is."
Aleandro went upstairs.
He found Claire sitting beside Sophie's bed.
The little girl slept with one hand buried in Max's fur.
Claire didn't look at him.
"Don't tell me he's sorry."
"I wasn't going to."
"Good."
Aleandro leaned against the doorframe.
"I'm not asking you to forgive him."
"I don't."
"Neither am I asking you to forgive me."
That made her turn.
"Why do you keep doing that?"
"What?"
"Refusing to defend yourself."
"Would it change what happened?"
"No."
"Then it's noise."
Claire looked at Sophie again.
"Ethan believed rules mattered."
Aleandro waited.
"He believed if something was wrong, you documented it. You told the right person. You followed procedure."
She laughed quietly.
"I used to tease him because he'd read instruction manuals."
Aleandro's mouth moved faintly.
"He sounds exhausting."
"He was."
She smiled through tears.
"He organized the spice rack alphabetically."
"Unforgivable."
"He labeled the garage shelves."
"Monster."
Claire laughed.
Then covered her face as the laugh turned into crying.
Aleandro didn't touch her.
He simply sat in the chair across from her.
After a minute, Claire lowered her hands.
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"Not telling me everything happens for a reason."
"I don't believe that."
"Neither do I."
She studied him.
"What do you believe?"
Aleandro considered.
"That what happens next can matter."
Claire looked down.
"That's dangerously close to optimism."
"Don't tell Luca."
A small smile returned.
Downstairs, the investigation continued.
Before dawn they found confirmation.
Matteo had received Ethan's complaint.
Twelve minutes later, he had contacted Northline's operations director.
The director was now living in Portugal.
An hour after that, one of Matteo's employees had accessed Ethan's personnel record.
Home address.
Emergency contact.
Vehicle information.
Claire read the report without speaking.
"What else?" she asked.
Luca hesitated.
"There was a payment after Ethan's death."
"To who?"
"A mechanic."
Claire went completely still.
Aleandro looked at Luca.
"Same mechanic connected to Claire's car?"
"We're checking."
The answer arrived thirty minutes later.
Same shop.
Different employee.
Same owner.
Matteo's shell company had paid the business twice.
Once eighteen months ago.
Once three days before Claire's crash.
For Claire, the last remaining possibility of coincidence disappeared.
"My husband was murdered."
Nobody corrected her.
She walked outside.
Morning mist hung over the trees.
Aleandro followed several minutes later.
Claire hugged herself against the cold.
"He didn't deserve that."
"No."
"Sophie didn't deserve losing him."
"No."
"I spent eighteen months believing it was an accident."
Aleandro stood beside her.
"Now you know."
"I almost wish I didn't."
"I understand."
"No, you don't."
He looked at the mountains.
"Maybe not the way you do."
Something in his voice made her study him.
"Who did you lose?"
He remained silent for so long she thought he wouldn't answer.
"My younger brother."
Claire's anger softened.
"What happened?"
"He believed being my brother made him untouchable."
Aleandro's eyes grew distant.
"It didn't."
"I'm sorry."
"He was twenty-four."
"Was it because of your life?"
"Yes."
No excuses.
Again.
Claire finally understood why the empty chair at Il Corvano mattered.
Aleandro Moretti was surrounded by people every day.
But grief had built a room inside him nobody entered.
"I'm not Ethan," he said.
Claire looked at him.
"I know."
"And I'm not a good man because I carried Sophie up a hill."
"I didn't say you were."
"Good."
A pause.
"But," Claire said, "bad men don't usually worry this much about whether someone thinks they're good."
He looked at her.
"Maybe I'm complicated."
"That's what difficult men say when they want women to ignore warning signs."
That actually made him smile.
Briefly.
Real this time.
Claire saw the man beneath the reputation.
And that was precisely why she became afraid.
Not of him.
Of caring what happened to him.
Their conversation ended when Luca stepped onto the porch.
"We have a problem."
Aleandro turned.
"What?"
"Matteo disappeared."
"When?"
"His driver went to pick him up this morning. Apartment empty. Phones left behind."
Claire's stomach tightened.
"He's running."
"No," Aleandro said.
"How do you know?"
"Matteo never runs before arranging somewhere to land."
Luca nodded.
"And he emptied one company account last night."
"How much?"
"Eight million."
Aleandro looked toward the road.
Matteo knew they had discovered him.
Which meant hiding was no longer his goal.
He would need leverage.
Evidence.
Or a hostage.
Inside, Sophie's laughter floated through the open window as she played with Max.
Claire turned toward the sound.
Aleandro saw the fear cross her face.
"He's not getting near her."
"You can't promise that."
"I just did."
A phone rang.
Not Aleandro's.
Not Claire's.
Luca slowly removed a small prepaid phone found inside the cabin's supply bag.
None of them had put it there.
The screen displayed a single incoming call.
Luca answered on speaker.
Matteo Rinaldi's voice filled the room.
"Good morning, Aleandro."
Nobody breathed.
"You've been asking questions."
Aleandro's expression became ice.
"Where are you?"
Matteo laughed softly.
"That's the wrong question."
"Then educate me."
"The correct question is what will happen to Claire Bennett when the police receive enough records to believe you killed her husband."
Claire went pale.
Matteo continued.
"And what happens to little Sophie when her mother finally understands the man protecting them is the reason her father died."
The call ended.
Aleandro stared at the silent phone.
The war had changed.
Matteo no longer needed to kill Claire.
He only needed to make her believe Aleandro had killed Ethan.
May you like
And somewhere among the forged records was apparently enough evidence to do exactly that.
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